


Freckles.

by puddii



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Death, Death, Doomed Timeline, F/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddii/pseuds/puddii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is slow and painful, because the gods want you to suffer till the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freckles.

**Author's Note:**

> First piece of work on here, feedback is more than welcome! There may be some typos as I write on notepad and tend to miss some, but hopefully there shouldn't be too many. Enjoy!

The cruel thing about dying, you think, is that when you're lying there, bleeding out on the ground, time seems to slow. 

A second becomes a minute, a minute becomes an hour. 

It's like, something wants you to suffer just that little bit longer. 

Your name is Terezi Pyrope. You are 7.38 sweeps old. You're lying on the cold stone ground, trembling, bleeding. You're going to die. 

You've got a cut along your throat. If you could laugh you would. It isn't too deep, not enough to kill you. Yet. But it does hurt to talk.

Dave's doomed timeline had one. 

How ironic. 

Well, nothing to do but sit and wait. 

You try to think of happy things, but everything comes up sad. 

You try to think about Karkat, he was an asshole, but he made you happy. However, all you can think of is him yelling, and you two fighting. 

So instead you try to think of Vriska. Now why would you do that? She's a bitch. 

You can hear in the distance, the sound of people fighting. Jack, that bastard. You hope that no one else is getting hurt. 

Hope. If only you still had it. 

You shut your eyes tight, not that it will do much; you are blind after all. 

How long have you been lying here? It feels like an eternity. 

Raising a shakey hand you press it to your throat. It hurts and you try to cry out, but that only hurts even more. 

A squeaky gasp manages to escape your mouth and you let your arm fall down beside you. 

And suddenly, all the happy thoughts manage to find you. 

The times you used to FLARP with Vriska before she turned into a bitch. 

Or when you knew you were flushed for Karkat, even if you aren't still flushed for him.

Then of course the time you met Dave. 

Dave. 

You never got to tell him how you feel. 

You could only imagine how that conversation would go down. 

He would reply with some snarky comment, and he'd probably turn you down; but that would be better than him not knowing, right? 

And suddenly, you're crying. 

There were so many things you never got to do. 

Your chest is heaving and you're trying not to make a sound. 

You're going to die here, and no one will know till Jack leaves. That is, if he leaves. If they survive. 

Suddenly, you're being lifted off the ground gently, into warm arms. There is the gentle smell of candy apples over the overwhelming scent of the blood you're soaked in. 

It's Dave in his delectable god tier hoodie. 

Dave, you try and whisper, whether he hears you or not is anyone's guess. 

_Tz... I'm so sorry._

He's setting you down and you feebly grip onto his shirt. 

Don't leave me. 

_I won't. Not yet..._

Is everyone else.... okay? 

_Y-yeah... they're fine. Just a few scratches... they'll be fine._ This is the first time he's sounded so sad. 

Your heart aches for him. More tears. They just won't fucking stop, will they? 

Dave... 

_You shouldn't talk, it'll make it worse. Trust me, I know._

Dave, shutup. I need to tell you something. 

He sighs. _Okay._

Hold me...please? It's too cold. 

He does. He picks your torso up and rests you in his lap, holding you close. Leaning over you protectively. 

I think... I'm experiencing this... crazy new feeling... 

Dave says nothing, but you think he tightens his hold on you. 

Dave... I think... I think I love you. 

And now he's practically squeezing you. Something hot hits your cheek. It smells salty. 

Dave... are you crying? 

_Fuck, Tz. Cool kids don't cry. You're hallucinating from blood loss or some shit._

Okay then... 

One of his hands snakes it's way up to your cheek, and he cups it gently. You lean into it. God. This is like a moment from so many of your dreams. 

_This isn't fair, Tz. You can't just do this to me._

Now his voice is shakey, he's trembling and so are you. You wonder if anyone else is around. You sure hope not. 

_You can't just tell me you love me... when you're dying in my arms. That's not how this shit works. That ain't fair._

Life isn't fair. It's just. 

_Don't go..._

I don't... want to... 

_Why isn't there a quest bed when you fucking need it. Jesus. Tz, hopy shit. I don't... I can't lose you._

There are plenty of trolls under the bridge, Dave. 

Your voice is barely a whisper anymore. It's like a breathe, a quiet breathe. Your chest aches, your arms ache, your body aches. Everything aches.

 _But they're not blind, sociopaths. They're not my troll._

They'll... j-just have... to do, Strider. 

_But... I'm fucking... flushed for you! Or whatever the fuck you call it. Fuck the culture. I love you, I'm flushed for you, I'd give anything and everything for you. I don't care how uncool that makes me sound! I lost Bro... not you too._

Oh cool kid. 

The tears have returned once more and a weak smile manages to crawl onto your lips. 

I'll see you... in the dream bubbles... okay? 

_No... Terezi. Don't you dare._

You open your eyes. But nothing is blurred, everything is crisp and clear. You can see. You can make out those freckles that are spread out across Dave's otherwise perfect skin. His shades and silly god tier. White hair and pursed lips. His cheeks are stained with tears. 

Dave... you're so handsome... 

_Wh-what?_

You never... told me... you had freckles... 

You can feel the breathe leaving your chest for the last time. Your eyes close slowly, and Dave's face begins to blur once more. 

Your name is Terezi Pyrope. You're 7.38 sweeps old. You got to tell the boy you've been flushed for, for so long, that you're in love with him. You got to see his face one last time. You got to die, safe and warm in his arms. 

Your name is Terezi Pyrope and you died happy.


End file.
